Race for Life
by AmethystWolfGirl
Summary: Teen!lock. Sherlock is dragged out to a Race for Life event to show support to his family. He meets a boy named John, who is volunteering with the army cadets.


Sherlock gazed out of the window at the blurs of buildings he and his family passed on their drive down to the park. He resisted the urge to sigh impatiently. This was going to be a long afternoon.

His parents – or specifically, his mother – were running in the Race for Life, and had dragged him along too. Mummy was especially interested in cancer research, and always managed to raise a lot from her sponsors. This year, she'd managed to raise over £1000; a particularly impressive amount. Sherlock himself had donated money, though his only interest was in the scientific development. He didn't see why people had to run to show their support.

Finally, they found a parking space, and Sherlock was free to get out of the stuffy car. It was a sunny day – a rare enough occasion in Britain – but there was a pleasant breeze. Perfect for running. Sherlock's mother would not be running, but in the Race for Life, you were free to walk, or jog as well. She would be walking. Glancing around, Sherlock was greeted by the sight of many girls and women all dressed in pink. The most common attire seemed to be pink tank tops and black leggings. Many of them already had their number badges pinned on the front and the reason they were running pinned to their backs, Sherlock noted. Shame. It took all the fun out of his deductions.

Sherlock reluctantly trailed after his parents through the gates of the park and over to the stand, where a radio host was talking to the crowds there, keeping up high energy. He sounded far too cheerful and enthusiastic. Sherlock wanted to find a spot in the shade, so that he could sit down and perhaps read until this ordeal was over and he could go home and continue with his violin practice. However his dad and mummy insisted that they stay near the front. Sherlock looked to Mycroft, who appeared a bit hot under the collar, and smiled faintly. At least he had thought to not come in a full three-piece suit. Taking that as a small victory, Sherlock decided if he couldn't sit, he may as well observe.

Eyeing the sea of pink and ponytails, Sherlock tried to pick out faces. It was distracting, though, with music playing, the host's voice blaring out of speakers, and the constant noisy chatter of all the racers waiting for the warm up to begin, so they could get on with the race. Sherlock could barely concentrate. He couldn't hold focus on one person for long enough to deduce anything before he lost them to somebody else clad in pink attire. Frustrated, Sherlock went to complain, only to be knocked over by a girl in pink bunny ears.

"Sorry!" the girl exclaimed, blushing as pink as her t-shirt. She scrambled to help Sherlock up, but he swatted her hand away and pushed himself off the ground.

"Watch where you're going." He snarled, turning away from her and brushing himself off. Sherlock's mood only worsened from there.

After what felt like hours, but his watch persistently counted as only twenty minutes, the host began listing a few of the groups that were running that year.

"The Brighton Joggers!" A group cheered in the crowd.

"Mums2Marathons!" More reluctant cheering.

"Girl Power!" Wild cheering from the back of the crowd.

"Jog on cancer!" Loud cheers and a few whistles from a group near the front. They were dressed on blue, set apart from the other pink runners.

The host continued listing a few more groups, then introduced a woman, who was apparently in charge of Cancer Research UK. Sherlock had a feeling the woman was actually in charge of the PR of Cancer Research UK, though he said nothing. He wasn't about to go on stage and attempt to prove her wrong. Sherlock listened with mild interest as she talked about the help Race for Life had done in supporting cancer research, and gave improved statistics as evidence for this. Good, Sherlock thought dully. Hopefully this wasn't a complete waste of his time and donations.

Eventually, that stage of the event was wrapped up, and the host returned again to introduce somebody else, who would be leading the warm-up. Sherlock groaned, realising that the crowds of people he was among were all going to start dancing. The music would be louder and he would be in the midst of sweaty people attempting to follow the leader showing them what to do on the stage. Not his ideal afternoon at all.

Sherlock was not going to stand there while everybody else started their warm-up. He had already given his donations, and would be supporting mummy at certain points during the race, but he most certainly would not just hang around looking uncomfortable in the heat while people were preparing for the race. He waited until his parents were distracted and Mycroft had his back turned, then slinked off between the pink crowds and headed to the stands and stalls, where there was more space. Sherlock looked around himself and grinned. His family had not yet noticed his disappearance. Success.

Sighing in relief, Sherlock decided that the shade of the trees still sounded appealing, and turned to head there. For the second time that day, he was knocked into, this time keeping his balance and sending the other teenager to the floor. Sherlock blinked in surprise as he regained his balance, immediately scowling.

"Watch it, won't you?" Sherlock muttered, looking down at the person who'd fallen. To his surprise, it wasn't another pink girl, but a blonde boy in a black t-shirt and khaki trousers. He looked a bit dazed, but smiled and got back to his feet.

"Sorry, wasn't looking where I was going. Though you were the one who bumped into me." The boy replied, still smiling. Sherlock folded his arms across his chest, not seeing what was so amusing.

"I was not. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go." Sherlock said shortly, trying to make his way past the boy, who got a small look of determination and stepped sideways to stay in front of Sherlock.

"You were." He insisted, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. He was already bored of this conversation.

"I'm not participating in a conversation with a blundering boy who thinks it's cool to wear army uniform." Sherlock replied, raising an eyebrow. The boy didn't seem fazed at all by his comment.

"I'm not wearing it because I think it's cool," the boy replied, "It's army cadet uniform. I'm volunteering with my squadron." The boy pointed to one of the stands, where there were a number of other teenagers, mostly boys, though there were a few girls, in similar dress. Sherlock sighed. He'd been wrong for once, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"Ah, I thought you were interested in joining the military. The cadets is probably an excellent help in joining. Goodbye." Sherlock said, trying again to get past the boy, who this time caught his wrist.

"Hey, wait. How did you know I was interested in joining the army?" He asked. Sherlock paused, freeing his wrist of the boy's grasp and frowned at him.

"Isn't it obvious? The khaki, the military cut hair, the watch. It's all there." Sherlock replied.

"The watch? What about my watch?"

"It's a Swiss Military Watch. Judging from the wearing on it, I'd say it's probably been handed down to you from you father, correct? So you come from a military background anyway. You're probably following in your father's footsteps." Sherlock explained. The boy looked at his watched, then back to Sherlock with a grin.

"That was fantastic!" he exclaimed brightly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly. Fantastic?

"Was that... sarcasm?" Sherlock said hesitantly. The boy shook his head.

"Not at all. It was brilliant. You just noticed all of that in one glance?" he asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Yeah, totally brilliant. I'm John, by the way. John Watson." The boy introduced himself, offering his hand for Sherlock to shake. He did so, giving John a reluctant smile.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock? Funny name, that." John said, still holding onto Sherlock's hand.

"I don't see anything humorous about it." Sherlock replied, pulling his hand away from John's and letting it drop back to his side.

"Well, not funny. Different, I meant. Unusual." John corrected himself. Sherlock shrugged.

"I am unusual." He replied.

"Maybe a little bit." John said with a small smile. He glanced over his shoulder to the cadets tent and back to Sherlock. "I better go. I'm supposed to be helping out still. I get to shoot pink ribbons out of cannons. It's gonna be pretty fun. See you round, Sherlock."

"Goodbye, John." Sherlock said, a bit relieved that he could be left in peace for a while. "Enjoy shooting pink ribbons out of cannons."

Sherlock watched as John nodded and jogged back over to the cadets stand, before turning away to find himself a shaded spot to read. Across the field, he could hear the warm-up coming to an end, and the host calling for a minute of silence in order to remember those who had lost their battle to cancer, and to reflect on why they were gathered there today, and who and what they were running for.

As Sherlock found the page he had been reading last and settled into his book, he heard the host call for a cheer. The crowd whooped back and he heard a faint pop. Sherlock glanced up as pink shimmering ribbons floated on the breeze over the crowd, and imagined John holding one of the small cannons with a bright grin.


End file.
